TWs: Depression, self-blame/self-hate, being watched/monitored, threats, and lethal health issues. Stay safe :)

It was the morning of the fifth training day as Clay entered the mess hall, his eyes still weary and saturated with sleep. He carried himself to a chair, sitting, and resting his head on the table.

"Clay, did you happen to see Tord while on your way here?" Pat spoke, nudging his arms out of the way so he could place a plate of breakfast in front of the younger.

"Nah... didn't see 'im," Clay mumbled, sleepily chewing on a piece of bacon. Pat frowned, peering over to his partner, who was getting himself a plate of food. He strode over to him, grabbing his arm.

"We need to talk to Tord."

"What for?" Pau asked, wincing at the pressure Pat was putting on his arm.

"Tord wouldn't take two days off in a row like this; we need to talk to him." Pat yanked his arm, pulling him to the exit.

"What about breakfast?"

"Bring it with you; I don't care."

The two stood before Tord's room within minutes. Pat brought his fist up and knocked. Pau could hear a slight shuffle in the room.

"Maybe he's still asleep?" Pat muttered. Pau shook his head, wrapping his hand around the knob and twisting, opening the door.

"He's awake alright," Pau uttered, gesturing to the lump in the middle of the bed.

"Tord?" Pat spoke out into the shadowy room. The blanket barely moved, two fingers reaching out from the lump, waving weakly. A groan accompanied it. Pat and Pau glanced at each other before entering the room. They stood by the leader's bedside, "Tord?"

There was no response. Pat huffed, taking a piece of bacon from Pau's plate and hovering it above Tord, waving it slightly.

"Bacon...?" Tord uttered, reaching out again.

"Ah-ah, come out from under the blanket." Pat moved the bacon piece higher. Tord whined, whispering something under his breath, "What was that?"

"Can't... move," Tord spoke, shuffling a bit. Pat averted his gaze to his partner, huffing under his breath.

"Alright then." Moving over to the other side of the bed, Pat met Tord's silver eye, "This might hurt a bit."

Tord frowned, glaring at the man before him as he adjusted his position by himself, lying on his back, "Never mind."

"That's what I thought." Pat nodded, crossing his arms, "May I ask what happened?"

"Mmh," Tord grunted.

"Scoot over." Pat sat on the bed, crossing one leg as the other dangled off the edge. He cleared his throat, looking at Pau and gesturing to the other side. The taller sighed, putting his plate aside and sitting down. It was quiet for a few moments as Tord shifted uncomfortably between the two. A hand came down to ruffle his caramel locks. The leader froze, not expecting it.

"How many times do we have to tell you?" Pau kept his hand in place, "You don't have to do this alone, Feniks."

"It's my responsibility," Tord uttered, "Everything happened because of me." His fathers were quiet, waiting for him to continue, "The incident, my father, the Black Army, everyone going missing, Edd..."

"I wouldn't say the Black Army was your fault. Their leader had always been insane." Pau spoke, only getting a glare from Pat, "What? It's true."

"None of those things are your fault, Tord-"

"Eh..." Pau winced, "Except for E-"

Pat cleared his throat, "As I said, it wasn't his fault." The shorter pointed at Pau, then pulled his index and thumb across his mouth, silently telling him to zip it.

Tord sighed, leaning into Pau's hand, "I'm helpless."

"You are not-" Pat stopped mid-sentence. He peered down at Tord's face. He lay expressionless, showing no emotions; the glint in his eye was gone, and he was pale. Pat furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, "Get up."

"Huh-?" Before Tord knew it, Pat had grabbed his left arm and yanked him out of bed, "Oi! What the fuck are you doing!?"

"Restraining will only make it worse for yourself, Tord," Pat grunted as he grabbed Tord's leg mid-kick. He glanced at Pau, noticing his amused gaze, "How about instead of watching, you grab his uniform?"

Tord didn't resist much longer, finding himself much weaker without his metal arm, "Urettferdig..." He muttered to himself as he sulked on the ground.

"Watch it!" One of the five soldiers said as Arthur tripped up the stairs again.

"Well, I'm sorry for being blind. It's not like this bloody palace has access for disabled people." Arthur cursed as he found his footing on the stairs once more.

"One more peep outta you, and you and your friend will be target practice." Another soldier spoke.

"Are you trying to get on their bad side?" Larry whispered.

"These assholes keep provoking me..." Arthur panted, nearly tripping again, "Wish they hadn't taken my cane..."

They entered the palace's ground floor, entering from behind the thrones. A few soldiers guarded the thrones and doorways, two on each side throughout the castle.

"Ugh, more stairs..." Arthur realized as he heard the sound of the soldiers in front of him going up. Larry said nothing the rest of the way, observing the inside of the palace, examining even the tiniest of details, from the beautiful stairwell to the intricate carvings in the polished stone.

The soldiers guided them into a room decorated in shades of red and golden yellow. Larry knew it was one of the guest rooms.

"This room is next to King Hellucard." One spoke, "He'll be watching you closely from now on." To make his point clear, he gestured his spear to the corner of the ceiling.

A camera.

'Of course.' Larry rolled his eyes. The soldiers left without another word, and Larry guessed that two of them were guarding the door. He sighed, turning to face Arthur, "Now what-?"

Arthur was holding on to the vanity, his back facing Larry as he took in a few breaths. His knuckles were paler than a ghost as he gripped the white quartz.

"Sir, it appears your blood sugar is decreasing." His AI spoke.

"I can feel that..." Arthur replied, his voice trembling.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Larry asked.

"Hah, of course, I am!" The older smiled, peering over at him over his shoulder, "I just need to rest for a bit."

Arthur kept his smile as he walked over and plopped himself on the bed, focusing on the covers beneath him and how they felt within his grasp. He ignored Larry's staring until the shorter found something else to inspect. He gripped the covers, a near scowl sitting on his face, 'Shit. I can't have this happen. Not here. Not now.' He ran his fingers through his hair, glancing over to where Larry was inspecting the drawers, 'I won't let myself die here... not without saying goodbye.'

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Dutch =
Feniks - Phoenix

Norwegian =
Urettferdig - Not fair

(Translations brought to you by Google Translate)

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Is he gonna die? Who knows? That will all be revealed later :)

Also, William looks like a Naruto character lmao
I've never seen Naruto all the way through, but he looks like Shikamaru Nara... and I can't unsee it. Just put a pair of glasses and a stubble on the guy and that's William.

I've almost finished drawing him, I promise-

Comments are appreciated 3